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Forbidden Memories

MEMORIES   "Listen Talia, I. Don't... know if I can anymore. Just...” his godlike face became torn, and his eyes tightened. "Don't forget me” he whispered, closing his eyes and cutting off any way for me to distinguish the emotion behind them. I could feel the stinging in my eyes, the tears slowly welling up. This couldn't be it could it? I had been through so much in the past year; we had been through too much for this to be it. "Please” I choked, barely audible to human ears; I knew he would hear me though. "Please Damien. Please don't do this” I begged, I felt my knees crumpling, giving way and suddenly my hands were on the cold gravel floor.   "Tal? Tal?!...Move yourself!” Shalanda's thin olive hand shook my shoulder, sending my teeth rattling slightly. "Come on! You're always daydreaming, I can't stand it. Be a friend for once and listen to me.” Her deep mahogany curls swayed past her shoulder as she shook her head at me, her forehead crumpling slightly with a worried expression. I had to admit, I didn't have the faintest idea of what she was babbling on about. The pain in my chest had been too real. That face...his face was always in my mind whenever my eyes closed. I just didn't have any idea where from.   The sky had turned a misty foggy gray in Surrey. It had been sunny a few minutes before, the sun throwing rays of light on the grass, the trees, reflecting off the cars that slowly crawled past with the traffic. But the weather was always unpredictable here. One of the downfalls my mother gleefully accepted in compromise with what she would be gaining in return. Mark, her on and off boyfriend for the past four years had accepted a job offer in journalism. His office was situated in some rat ridden, town that was constantly gaining crime rates and had not long ago been announced as one of the most unsafe neighbourhoods in London. As expected, my mother was not so keen on the idea of Mark having to travel from this death-trapped area to Kent every night and running the risk of possibly being attacked, mugged or maimed in the process. So we moved closer to town. Not right in it of course, I valued my mums life and mine far too much for that, but close enough that it was only a half hour tube journey for him to get there and back. Although Mark always claimed that the rumours were just hearsay and he couldn't see a problem with the area, his face always had an expression of relief as soon as he walked through the door at nine fifteen every night.   Naturally I wasn't pleased when I first discovered this news. "Mum, you can't be serious!” I had exclaimed. "It's his choice...why do we have to suffer just because he wants to endanger his life for a bloody story in a newspaper.” I felt my face twist in anger as I imagined black cobbled streets and men with sharp, pitchfork like daggers, down alleyways that I would be forced to endure night after night. I knew my mind was overreacting, but still. "Honey, it's not like that” She soothed. My mum was young for her age, not just in looks but in attitude also. I was usually the one to rein her back to the real world when she had one of her crazy life changing ideas. Her jet straight brown hair hung just past her narrow chin, and her wide grey eyes always had a soft glow about them. She had a figure most thirty nine year old mums would die for. Slender curvy hips that tucked in at the waist and a bust that had most men's eyes pop out of their sockets whenever they walked past her. I was never surprised that, before Mark, she was forever going on dates of a Saturday night.  "Mark says their just rumours anyhow. You know how these stories get out of hand.” "Of course he's going to say that!” I fumed. I couldn't believe she actually believed his pathetic reassurances. "It's just so that you'll say yes! Mum, surely you see that!” Her face became stern and her grey eyes hardened, narrowing at me. "He wouldn't lie to me Talia” she said. I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Of course not” I muttered sarcastically. "He's a journalist mum. His entire work is based around lying and trying to sell the stupid product. And here you are, almost drooling at the chance.” "That's enough.” she answered. A firm expression carved on her soft face. Her chin jutted out slightly in defence. I sighed in response. I knew I didn't stand a chance at winning the argument. She may have asked me what I thought about it, but it wouldn't alter the outcome either way. Sometimes I didn't understand why she bothered asking me at all. It never made a difference. Her face became pleading, as she tried to sway my opinions. "If we stay here, he's going to live down there on his own Tal. This way, we can all be together as a family. Please give this to me honey. I need him. You know that” I surrendered with a groan. I knew only too well how much she needed him.   It wasn't that I didn't like Mark. He made my mother happy, and, although he sometimes went to unnecessary extremes to achieve this, that was all I cared about. But when his petty career choices started affecting the entire outcome of my life, I sensed that that gave me an adequate reason to object. But nevertheless I aversely agreed. Struggling to keep the frown off my face as my mum and Mark celebrated my approval that evening and started animatedly gushing over the details of their new neighbours and the ways they planned on arranging the furniture over there.   I sighed as I came back to the present. We had been living here almost six months now. To my surprise me and my mother were still alive, and, even more surprisingly, so was Mark. The dim dull peach coloured walls of my Literature class seemed to close in on me as I anxiously waited for the bell. I glanced at the clock, there were three minutes till I could leave this building, and I knew, that, just like every other day, those last three minutes of school would be the longest three minutes of my life. Shalanda fidgeted next to me, shifting her slender, petite figure to the side slightly, in the hope that she'll be first out the door. This had always been her mission every day for the past six months that I had been friends with her. At first I thought that maybe she did not like me as much as she portrayed, and her urgent half second glances at the clock were because she was desperate to get away from me. It was only until later on that I realised her real reason. Gary Block, a stocky, spiky blonde haired sixth form. He had a pale complexion with rather plain features and blue eyes. Most females in my year leered after him, but, to Shalanda's delight, she was the only one he seemed obliged to wait for every day after school. Although she was aware of this fact, she still tapped her foot impatiently, fearing that if another girl made it out before her, she would somehow win his heart and they would run away together hand in hand. I couldn't help but chuckle at her insecurities. "What's so funny?” she eyed me curiously. "What's the rush? Surely he doesn't mind waiting five little minutes to see you” She sighed and her full lips curved up into a small smile. "He may not. But I do...its five minutes wasted in my book. I mean come on! I could be snogging him by now” she moaned. Glancing once again at the clock. I cringed at the thought, and repressed a shudder. I had all but too well remembered the last time when I unfortunately became witness to their public kissing show. Their faces pretty much became lost in each others.   The bell rang then, and her depthless brown eyes widened in anticipation. Her face beamed as she lunged for the door, and disappeared down the hallway before anyone else had a chance to even leave their seat. Various other students watched after her with a puzzled look, but she was already gone before they could think anything of it. I picked up my bag and hurriedly shoved my world war one books inside, groaning internally at the thought of having to write yet another essay on the themes of war, and how man's inhumanity to man reflects the way literature changed during that period.   I sat on one of the cold, hard seats of the double-decker bus, impatiently waiting for it to approach my stop. I hated the journey home. Barely adult mothers gossiped happily to each other, while their rowdy, boisterous children let out shrill, ear-splitting demands of sweets and toys. Loud mouthed teenagers occupied the back end of the bus, sniggering and hooting at each other, blaring tasteless noise from their mobiles and chanting along to the words, while the elderly occupied the front end of the bus, unthinkingly jabbing their walking sticks now and then into the standing passengers. I gazed unseeingly through the windows, letting my mind wander as the pedestrian filled streets raced past from the acceleration of the bus. The outside world became a pale green, gray blur, with the odd flash of colour from a car, or a brightly lit shop. I closed my eyes, trying to tune out the noise from my surroundings, and at once he was there. His perfect features shining slightly from the cast of the moon. His eyes were a deep green, but much brighter than any I've ever seen, almost glowing with a faint tint of blue around the edges. His perfect lips, turned down to match the frown on his face. That same agonised expression. My breathing sped as I felt the familiar crushing pain in my chest whenever I saw him in my mind, and his lips parted. "Don't forget me” he whispered, clear as a bell in my ear.   My eyes immediately snapped open as I sat there gasping, trying to catch my breath and clutching the side of my seat. My body had suddenly become frozen like ice cold acid was squeezing through my veins. I shuddered and glanced out the window, recognizing the small uneven patches of grass spotting the pavements in between the trees. I breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed the bell as I grabbed my bag and rose from my seat. The bus wheezed as its speed reduced, screeching slightly as it came to a complete standstill. The doors hissed mechanically and slid open releasing a fierce gust of wind against me. I stumbled off the bus, pushing my hair away from my eyes, and swinging my bag over my shoulder, watching the bus doors close after me and slowly retreat down the road, and, after a while, disappearing altogether. I turned eastward and made the familiar stroll home.
So funny! What are the chances?
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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